Oh my

The worst thing about getting ready to see your mother and grandmother after too many years is looking at yourself in the mirror. You realize 1) that you've aged and therefore 2) gravity has started to play tricks on your body, 3) that you haven't been careful and have some really awkward patchwork of a suntan because you've been in the garden —wearing t-shirts, tang tops and gardening gloves— and therefore dread the moment you have to get into a bathing suit. I am tanned, but in a scoop kind of shape from the neck up, the arms but just between the edge of the sleeve and the gloves, and I had the great idea of folding up my pants so my legs could get a little color... up to the knees. Not a pretty sight when you see the whole I'm telling you. If I go to the beach I'm going to look like some tan and white quilt... my grandmother will surely deny knowing me.
And then there's the eyebrows that in a fit of terror while writing a paper I plucked... never ever touch your eyebrows when you're stressed. I have bold patches above my left eye that will surely not grow before I meet those that think I'm perfect.
Instead of meeting the young perky thing they know, they'll see a middle aged woman with a bold spot on one of her eyebrows who looks half tanned, half dead. Hopefully they'll only see the happy person I've become. Maybe I'll hide their glasses so they can't see me up-close.